IQ Drop - Round 7

You start to shout the answer and as you do so, Scott jams the thick leather hood over your head. You immediately stop, put off by the feel of the leather against your skin. As he pulls it down, you can feel your hair crushed against your skull. You are blinded for a moment, and then the hood slides into place and you can see out of the eye holes of the hood. There is a mouth hole as well, so you can still give your answer.
"C...O....N..."

Scott grabbed the hood from behind and started to lace it shut. As the hood tightened, your cock reacted, swelling inside your leather trousers. You falter and stop, pulling in deep gulps of air before continuing.

"C.....E.....N"

The hood tightened further, this time using thick leather straps across the back of the head. The leather was not plastered against your skull and your arousal was now obvious. You paused and rubbed your crotch against the podium, forgetting where you were as your arousal completely took over your good sense.

You manage to martial your limited intellect and continue

"N...T..R"

"PING" the crowd roared with excitement as the timer expired. You slumped against the podium, not caring now as you ground your cock against it. The flash of light when it came was almost welcome and as your IQ slipped down to 67, your cock erupted for a second time inside your trousers.

The host smiled wickedly. "67 IQ - now that makes you an idiot, Let's just test that. What's your name?"

You peered at the host and shrugged "I don't know." The crowd laughed and the host simpered with mock sympathy. "Well, we'd best give you a name then, hadn't we?" You nodded, unsure what else to do. "Your name is ****. Understood?" You nodded. The name seemed appropriate.

"Well, ****, our game is still going on and we have two rounds to go. Scott has been enjoying himself so far and managed to distract you wonderfully. I'm sure he has something else planned for the next question. So, here we go -- thirty seconds on the clock. How many minutes are there in an hour?"